


Friendship and Death

by BottleofInk



Category: Hannibal (TV), Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Death, Friendship, mention of Mischa, more or less
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3376937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BottleofInk/pseuds/BottleofInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exceedingly short, vaguely fantasy-esque piece on a friendship between Will Graham and Sarah Williams.</p><p>Except really not. Really, it's about a little girl who unwittingly gave a death away, just before her own came.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship and Death

She befriended the fevered and shaky profiler by chance.

The dog’s name was Arthur. Perhaps it was his fault, really.

“I’m not – good, with people.” Will Graham told her, as she stood in his house sipping strong whiskey. Arthur, muddy and pleased, lay at her feet panting.

“I often find that I’m not either.” Sarah Williams told him, and smiled. “But never fear; I won’t intrude too long. Thank you, again, for catching my wayward knight.” 

Will dragged a sweaty hand through his hair and shrugged awkwardly. 

He never did look her in the eyes.

~*~

The next time they met, it was storming and they were on his roof. Sarah had one hand fisted in his shirt and was, as cheerfully as someone can in such circumstances, asking him what he was thinking.

Will didn’t wake up for ten more minutes. When he did, he was inside in different clothes, with a blanket. Sarah was lighting a fire.

“It won’t do anyone any good if you die from cold.” She said; when he had come fully around. He stared at her hair.

(Much later he would think it had been oddly dry, for having been out in the wet.) 

“I’m not so sure.” He answered her dully. 

Sarah rose to her feet and smiled at him. His dogs were gathered around her, like rough soldiers gathering around their queen. Only Arthur remained laying by the fire, the light dancing in his grey hair.

“I am.” Sarah said, and moved towards Will. “Certainly you wouldn’t provide any amusement if you were dead.”

“Glad I can provide amusement then, I suppose.” Will mumbled.

Sarah got him some tea.

~*~

Hannibal Lecter didn’t like her. It was something to do with her eyes, and the weary, amused smile she sent him when they were introduced.

Will had brought her to a dinner party, the first he had ever attended with Doctor Lecter that extended beyond people such as Alana and Crawford. 

Perhaps it wasn’t just her eyes or her smile that made Hannibal dislike her, though.

Perhaps it was the way she ate a meat he was calling rabbit.

Perhaps it was the way she took the first bite and something broke across her face – like relief, almost, as if a long thirst had been quenched. Like a warm-edged realization, like fog being wiped from a mirror.

Whatever you called it, in that moment Hannibal knew that Sarah Williams was aware of what was actually on her plate.

She ate every bite.

~*~

Hannibal and Sarah remained something that could be called friends throughout Will’s incarceration.

Hannibal spent too long, he thought, pulling at the threads of the woman in the hope of unraveling her. She remained steadfast in her friendship with Will. Even when Will began to tell everyone what Hannibal was, even when Will found out that Sarah still dined regularly at the doctor’s table.

~*~

“You’ve done a terribly rude thing, Doctor Lecter.” Came the clear voice through the rain. Hannibal stopped and looked around the dim lit street. In the distance he could hear the sirens.

“Have I, Miss Williams?” He asked. He thought he could see her, standing not far ahead of him in a shadow.

Her breath ghosted across his ear. “Will Graham’s death will be mine, Doctor Lector. And it won’t come for a terribly long time. But yours…”

 _“Yours,”_ the voice promised in his ear as the rain became sharp against his skin, _“yours has been mine since Mischa wished herself away, when Death came to claim her. She wanted you to come with her.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't edit this at all, or even reread it. It was an idea that wanted to be written... but I may have just written a plot-outline, rather than an actual story.


End file.
